The Argosy — page 133: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

119 A CRISIS IN HIS LIFE. UNCH-TIME at Oxford, and a sunny day. Instead of college and our usual fare, bread-and-cheese’ from the buttery, we were looking on the High Street from Mrs. Everty’s rooms, and about to sit down to a snow-white damasked table with no end of good things upon it. Madam Sophie had invited four or five of us to lunch with her. The term had gone on, and Easter was not far off. Tod had not worked much: just enough to keep him out of hot-water. His mind ran on Sophie Chalk more than it did on lectures and chapel. He and the other fellows who were caught by her fascinations mostly spent their spare time there. Sophie dispersed her smiles pretty equally, but Tod contrived to get the largest share. The difference was this: they had lost their heads to her and Tod his heart. The evening card-playing did not flag and the stakes played for were high. Tod and Gaiton were the general losers: a run of ill-luck had set in from the first for both of them. Gaiton might afford this, but Tod could not. Tod had his moments of reflection. He'd sit sometimes for an hour together, his head bent down, whistling softly to himself some slow dolorous strain, and pulling at his dark whiskers ; no doubt pondering the question of what was to be the upshot of it all. For my part, I devoutly wished Sophie Chalk had been caught up into the moon before an ill-wind had wafted her to Oxford. It was an awful shame of her husband to let her stay on there, turning the undergraduates’ brains. Perhaps he could not help it. We sat down to table: Sophie at its head in a fresh-looking pink gown and bracelets and nicknacks. Lord Gaiton and Tod sat on either side of her ; Richardson was at the foot, and Fred Temple and I faced each other. What fit of politeness had taken Sophie to invite me, I could not imagine. Possibly she thought I should be sure to refuse ; but I did not. . “So kind of you all to honour my poor little table!” said Sophie, as we sat down. ‘“‘ Being in lodgings, I cannot treat you as I should wish. Itis all cold: chickens, meat patties, lobster salad,and bread-and- cheese. Lord Gaiton, this js sherry by you, I think. Mr. Richardson, you like porter, I know: there is some on the chiffonier.” We plunged into the dishes without ceremony, each one according to his taste, and the lunch progressed. I may as well mention one thing— that there was nothing in Mrs. Everty’s manners at any time to take exception at: never a word was heard from her, never.a look seen, that could offend even an old dowager. She made the most of her charms COMIC OOOKS. EO